Bedded Under The Christmastide Moon_Regency Novella

by Christina McKnight

However, seeing the smile on her lips, the sparkle in her green eyes, and the blossom of her complexion now was enough for him to know his choice of gift was perfect.

  Though it hardly changed anything.

  “May I?” Brigham held out his hand for the necklace. When she set the gift in his palm, she immediately turned around and lifted her hair for him to clasp the chain about her neck.

  “It is beautiful, Brigham,” her breathed as the weight settled on her bosom. “I shall cherish it always.”

  Why did her words hold such a powerful sting?

  Because that was all she’d have to cherish, for he would be gone.

  Before Brigham knew what was transpiring, he leaned forward and kissed her neck, following the trail of the pendant’s chain as it cascaded over her shoulder, down to her clavicle, and to her cleavage where the heart lay.

  “You are cold.” Her skin was icy against his lips. “Let us return inside.”

  She turned to face him with agonizing slowness as she began to unbutton her cloak.

  “The night is harsh, and I should retrieve your muff.” Brigham glanced about, spotting her hand warmer on the ground several feet away.

  He hurried over to collect it, and when he returned, she’d laid her long, flowing cloak on the ground—in the exact spot they promised to love and cherish one another for all their days.

  The morning sun did not burn brightly in praise for their joining this night.

  No, it was the Christmastide moon…full and casting its luminous glow over Mellie as she lowered herself to the cloak, her hair free about her shoulders and the pendant hanging between her breasts.

  Never had Mellie been more stunning. Captivating. Utterly enchanting as she arranged her skirts about her on the ground.

  But then…then she did the one thing that brought Brigham to his knees.

  Mellie held out her hand to him.

  It was a proposition.

  She wanted Brigham to join her.

  Under the Christmastide moon.

  “Come, my husband.”

  There was so much left unsaid, hundreds of words he longed to say, though he could not find his voice as he sank to the ground beside her.

  His wife.

  The woman he’d lived all these years without, even though his heart had remained with her at Hockcliffe.

  His entire body pulsed with need as she brushed his cheek with her hand before leaning in to set her lips upon his. This kiss was far different than their previous one at the cottage. That had been driven by a fiery need that had lain dormant between them for years. This kiss, this joining, went far deeper than pure lust, want, and desire.

  Something inside Brigham reached out and took hold of Mellie, and he sensed it would always be that way. Denying his ever-present love for her, begging it to subside and recede, was futile.

  Brigham pulled back as her brow furrowed in confusion.

  There was much he needed to say, and this moment, this very intimate space of time, demanded he speak his piece.

  “Mellie.” He would not allow the words to come in a rush of mumbling, unintelligible utterances. She was worth more than a hastily spoken vow. “You must know I loved you the day we wed, and I’ve loved you every day since. My commitment to you has never wavered, though I have not been the husband you needed or deserved.” When she made to close the distance between them and bring their lips back together, Brigham halted her. “I would not blame you if your love for me has waned over the years, as it was my own neglect of you and our marriage that caused the distance between us. However, from this day forward, even if your love for me never returns, I will remain by your side. Here at Hockcliffe or in London or even the great Sahara Desert. Wherever your heart leads you, I and my heart will follow. Anything you demand is yours.”

  His heart hammered in his chest as he fell silent. The cool night air only served to make Brigham aware of the burning within him.

  Mellie drew in a ragged breath. Her narrowed stare traveled no higher than the lapel of his coat as if she debated something.

  “Do say something, please,” Brigham pleaded. He lifted her chin with his forefinger, returning her stare to his. “Do not leave my mind adrift too long.”

  Yet, what he saw there was not confusion, puzzlement, or some great internal debate.

  “Anything I demand?” Her lip turned up at the corner, and her eyes twinkled in the evening glow. “You will deny me nothing?”

  Brigham swallowed hard past the lump in his throat. A nod was all he could muster in response to her question. He would walk to the ends of the Earth if she so demanded. He would rage a brutal war against anyone she named as foe. And he would give her any gift she longed to possess. All she need do is speak her command.

  “Make love to me, Brigham.” Her chin lifted as if daring him to deny her. “Bed me properly under the Christmastide moon.”

  She needn’t command aught else as he pulled her close and set his lips to hers.

  With ungainly coordination, Brigham reached behind her and untied the sash about her waist and then began with the buttons down her back—the same buttons he’d expertly undone just that morning.

  Why was the task immensely more difficult now?

  Every inch of him knew why, and he pulled back, needing Mellie to speak of it.

  “I love you,” he mumbled against her lips as she attempted to follow him.

  Mellie paused, sensing what he asked of her. “I loved you yesterday, I love you today, and I will love you even more tomorrow.”

  Holding her gaze, Brigham had no doubt that everything she spoke was the truth and rooted deep within her heart.

  Swiftly, he moved through the buttons down the back of her gown.

  Their labored breaths joined in the mere inches separating them and escaped into the night.

  Mellie shrugged from the bodice of her gown, allowing it to pool at her waist, her thin shift barely hiding her hardened nipples.

  His hand shook with desire when his finger grazed the tight bud, and he pushed the shoulders of her chemise down to follow the same path her bodice had taken.

  Breathing deeply, Mellie’s breasts rose and fell, her perfect form exposed to his ravenous stare.

  He wanted to touch her, taste her, claim her.

  When his stare returned to hers, Brigham had no doubt that she sought to do the same with him.

  # # #

  Mellie had waited years for this moment. No, she’d waited a lifetime for Brigham to look at her as he was now. She wanted it to last decades; however, she also wanted his hands upon her bared breasts, his lips on her neck, and his manhood at her core.

  Her need was her undoing.

  Even without Brigham’s declarations of love, she would have given him the gift of her body, her soul, her heart. No matter the outcome, Mellie wanted their bodies joined this night, and she would not wait another moment.

  Her body vibrated with need as her back arched, presenting her full, tight breasts for his touch; the magnificent necklace nestled between her mounds.

  She recognized the instant his hesitation fled, and a flutter moved from her stomach to her throat as he reached forward and laid her back on the cloak. There were no words left within her, no need to speak…only act. Satiate the lust coursing through her.

  Yet, he did not follow her, nor did Brigham lay beside her. He pushed to his feet and stood, his eyes never leaving hers as he slowly removed his jacket, untied his cravat, and began undoing the buttons of his white linen shirt until he ended at the flap of his trousers.

  Mellie was helpless to stop herself as she licked at her lips, causing a low growl to escape from Brigham.

  He tossed his glasses on the growing pile of clothing close to his feet, his shirt quickly following.

  His Hessians were next, and then…his trousers.

  She sucked in a deep breath, but it caught in her throat when she realized Brigham wore nothing under his trousers. His erection jutted out thickly and pulsed in the moonligh
t from above, his desire for her evident.

  He was breathtaking as he continued to stand over her, his stare finally traveling down her body—giving her ample time to do the same with his. The sight of him did not assuage the need within her, however; it only amplified her arousal. Her fingers clawed at the cloak to keep from reaching for him.

  Certainly, she wanted him stretched out beside her, on top of her, his lips against hers. But she was hesitant to end this speck in time. She’d never seen him thusly and she wanted to look her fill. Wanted to imprint on her memory the way he looked in the moonlight, a look of unabashed desire and need evident on his face. And love. Yes, there was love.

  This was the moment in their lives every one to follow would be based on.

  The longing in his eyes, the set of his broad shoulders, the intense line of his jaw.

  Never again would she need fear what course her life would take, for Brigham would be ever at her side.

  No lingering distress at being alone in the world could bring her to panic.

  Brigham’s confession began to take root. He was not leaving Hockcliffe—not this night, not on the morrow, or any day that followed…unless Mellie was with him.

  “My dearest Lady Whitmore, I do hope—“ He paused, his eyes dipping to take in her bare breasts. Mellie parted her thighs, primed for all that would come next. Feeling beautiful under his stare. “—you are prepared to be bedded under the Christmastide moon.”

  “It is the gift I’ve longed for since our wedding day,” she purred, holding her arms wide.

  He came to her then, in all of his naked glory, his scorching lips leaving a trail of raw, heated desire in their wake as he pushed her gown down over her hips and followed the path with his lips. When he paused, his lips pursed, Mellie knew a brief second of panic.

  But instead of moving away, he lifted her hips slightly and reached beneath her to untie the holds for her underskirts, pushing them down her thighs with the rest of her underthings.

  The frosty night breeze that swept over her should have chilled her to the bone and numbed her, yet the sensation of his eyes upon her thrilled her senses to a new heightened awareness and heat bloomed anew at her core. A shudder ran down her spine at the thought of his tongue following the same path that his hands currently took. As if Brigham read her mind, he applied his lips to her naval and placed delicate kisses there.

  His strong hands caressed the tight muscles of her thighs as he leaned over her, and her body liquefied under his ministrations. One hand massaged the weighty globe of a breast, coaxing a sigh from her lips, as the other trailed feather-light touches over her mound. Mellie felt heat pool at her core as Brigham stroked and played, kissed and nipped until she wanted to beg.

  Mellie was gloriously exposed. She should be embarrassed, panicked, have an intense desire to cover her flesh; instead, she delighted in the sensations coursing through her. When he latched on to the sensitive area below her breast, her hands released their hold on the cloak and ran through his hair, locking tightly in his short curls and pulling him back to her lips.

  A brief second of weight and heat hit her as Brigham shifted to lay between her spread thighs, the tip of his manhood finding her entrance much like a ship instinctively finds its place in the harbor.

  Brigham, the man, was her home.

  He’d always been her refuge, and there was no doubt he’d serve as her haven for all her years.

  His eyes locked on hers—deepening to a liquid cocoa color—and then he entered her.

  Gently at first, pausing to allow her to adjust to his size… and bloody hell, isn’t that what he’d always done for her?

  Her body gave way to him, tightening about his length as he slowly slid in and out, their natural connection creating a wave of warmth that surrounded them both, casting out the harsh December cold, and banishing their past to usher in their future.

  That was Mellie’s final thought before the world exploded around them as if the Christmastide moon had fallen to the ground, bringing the entire night sky with it… stars and all.

  It was hours later, weeks later, years later, curled tight to Brigham’s side, his body heat protecting her from the steadily dropping temperatures, that he placed a kiss to her forehead. Mellie cooed with contentment as she snuggled ever closer to his heat.

  “Let us go inside,” Brigham whispered, brushing her hair from his cheek to place his lips at the tender spot below her ear. “We have much to speak of, and I do not wish my lady to fall ill before our Christmastide morn—or before I have properly laid her at our wedded bed.”

  Searing heat still coursed through Mellie, the night frost solidly held at bay as long as Brigham was near—however, the comfort of a warm room was difficult to deny.

  “Brigham—“ Mellie swallowed the sob that threatened to escape. “My love for you has never waned… not for a moment.”

  “And it was thoughts of you that kept me sane all these years,” he confessed, adjusting his position until he leaned on his elbow and stared directly into her eyes. “It was for you I’ve worked tirelessly to accomplish so much.”

  And accomplish much, they had, Mellie realized.

  Brigham pushed to his feet, leaning down to lift her as he brought her cloak about her shoulder. With swift movements under the pale glow of the moon, he redressed and gathered her garments never removing his gaze from her. His intense stare kept her warm as if his hands were still on her body, caressing her hips, her thighs, her breasts.

  Did he fear she would flee? Disappear? Make haste to the manor without him?

  No, Mellie would not be going anywhere without Brigham.

  Not today, tomorrow, or ever.

  They’d been parted for far too long, however, after this night, Mellie vowed never a moment should pass with her dearest husband removed from her.

  Whether it be under the Christmastide moon with the stars shining bright, only her cloak to protect them or beneath the canopy of their marriage bed, wrapped in blankets of the softest velveteen, Brigham would be at her side.

  About Christina McKnight

  USA TODAY Bestselling author Christina McKnight writes emotional and intricate Regency Romance with strong women and maverick heroes. Her books combine romance and mystery, exploring themes of redemption and forgiveness. When she’s not writing, Christina enjoys trying new coffeehouses, visiting wine bars, traveling the world, and watching television.

  Email: Christina@ChristinaMcKnight.com

  Follow her on Twitter: @CMcKnightWriter

  Keep up to date on her releases: www.christinamcknight.com

  Like Christina’s FB Author page: ChristinaMcKnightWriter

  Author’s Notes

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